


Cold Sheets

by plotweaver



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Everybody Lives, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plotweaver/pseuds/plotweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is angry when Bilbo's new duties as Master of Agriculture for Erebor make him bring his work home. Pure, 100% Bagginshield Fluff. So fluffy it might make your teeth hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> First time ever writing Bagginshield. First time writing for the Hobbit fandom.

Thorin rolled over, and reached for Bilbo in his sleep. Yanked from consciousness seconds later by cold sheets, he growled. He did not have to look far to find his hobbit. Sitting at the writing desk a few feet from the foot of their bed, Bilbo hunched over a stack of documents. The dying light of the midnight fire in their hearth glowed on his golden hair. Thorin was in no mood to appreciate this, though.  
  
“Come back to bed, Master Burglar.”  
  
Bilbo shot a dark look over his shoulder at Thorin. He saved that name for whenever Bilbo was being particularly difficult, as he was now. As he had been for the past two nights when Thorin caught him leaving their bed.  
  
Rebuilding a fallen kingdom was hard work and everyone, even the new King’s consort, had to pitch in. Bilbo had been put in charge of agriculture, and rightly so. After most of the battle’s debris had been cleared and the dwarrows began looking to the future instead of mourning their fallen comrades, food became a very pressing concern. Two and a half days ago, Bilbo had been walking the base of the mountain with Balin, surveying the progress of rebuilding the main gate when he happened to make a chance remark about the surprising fertility of the soil. Balin halted for a moment and then nodded.  
  
When he came back to their chambers that night, Thorin found Bilbo swimming in stacks of paper much bigger than he. Bilbo broke into a huge smile when he saw him come in and announced that Balin had appointed him as chief of agriculture. Thorin had placed his rough hand on the back of Bilbo’s neck and leaned down to kiss the sensitive skin behind Bilbo’s ear in congratulations. Bilbo abandoned the agricultural paperwork quite swiftly after that. But Thorin caught him sneaking out of bed later that night to scribble on a few forms. And the night after.  
  
Three nights in a row was too much for the king to handle.  
  
“I said, come back to bed, Master Burglar.” Thorin disentangled himself from the sheets and hissed as he planted his feet on the cool stone floor. He stalked over to where Bilbo sat utterly engrossed in his work.  
  
He placed his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, meaning to be firm and commanding, but softening into a caress the second his fingers felt the soft, threadbare shirt that he so loved to rip over Bilbo’s head in moments of passion and bury his face into in moments of sleepiness.  
  
Except for the unmistakable flush of Bilbo’s neck and ears, he did not respond to Thorin’s touch. This angered Thorin. Clearly Bilbo felt something – his complexion betrayed him – yet he would not curve into Thorin’s hand or roll his shoulders in invitation for more.  
  
Thorin knew his hobbit well enough to know when his touch was not welcome. The momentary flutter of Bilbo’s eyelids told him that the touch was extremely well received. And yet he would not respond. He merely bent further over his parchments.  
  
Why would he deny himself pleasure? Why would Bilbo rob them of the few precious hours that they got to themselves every night?  
  
It was beyond Thorin’s comprehension, and his tolerance wore thin. He bent over, placing his shoulder just above Bilbo’s pelvic bone and grasping his legs, Thorin hoisted Bilbo out of the chair and over his shoulder.  
  
Immediately Bilbo began kicking wildly in front of Thorin’s face and thumping futilely at his back. Thorin set him down on the bed, just rough enough to jostle him a bit, and climbed atop him. He planted his hands down on the mattress on either side of Bilbo’s head.  
  
“What do you think you’re doing?” Bilbo said as he squirmed beneath him. “Who-“ He faltered when Thorin moved his face closer, the ends of his braids now caressing Bilbo’s face. “Who,” Bilbo started again, “do you think you are?”  
  
“A king who would have his husband to bed.”  
  
Bilbo’s mouth opened in an unmistakable attempt to protest, but the words faltered into a less forceful "harumph" of protest when Thorin closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against his.  
  
“A dwarf who would have his love to himself.” Thorin then closed what little distance there was between them then, pressing his lips to Bilbo’s. He lowered his body ever so slightly to press against Bilbo’s, and grinned into the kiss when he felt Bilbo’s body betray his true desires.  
  
“Alright!” Bilbo said, pushing Thorin a fraction of an inch away. “You win, but when the crops of Erebor become the laughing stock of all of Arda-“  
  
“I will still have my husband to bed, whether there be food or no.”  
  
Bilbo always got a pleasant flush in his cheeks and the tips of his ears whenever Thorin called him “my husband,” but Thorin saw his words had a greater effect this time as he practically growled them. Bilbo’s entire face grew red, his eyes would not meet Thorin’s, and a sheepish smile overtook his countenance.  
  
“No more ‘Master Burglar’ then?” he asked.  
  
“You are in my hold now,” Thorin replied. “I am no longer cross.”  
  
Then he pushed Bilbo further into the sheets, determined to see if he could make him flush everywhere.

\-----

The next night, Thorin had barely entered their chambers and unfastened Orcrist from his hip before Bilbo exploded.  
  
“And just what do you think you’re doing, Thorin Oakenshield?”  
  
He sighed and set his sword in its place in the weapons cabinet. Bilbo only used his full name when exceptionally cross or extremely happy, and his clipped, loud tone did not suggest sweet kisses or tenderness.  
  
Thorin merely looked at Bilbo, admiring the color of his hair and picturing another small braid, just at his temple before realizing that Bilbo was not postulating a rhetorical question.  
  
“I’m coming home after a long day’s work. But apparently this dissatisfies you.”  
  
“Don’t be cheeky with me!” Bilbo came around the table separating them with such a quick fury that Thorin instinctively stepped back. “I know what you said to Lòni.”  
  
Thorin kept his expression controlled. Technically, he hadn’t said anything to Lòni, the deputy chief of agriculture. Technically, plunging his battle axe in the stone next to Lòni’s head and biting out threats of pain if the prince consort came home with any more paperwork couldn’t be further from just “saying” something. They were empty threats, of course. Merely meant to ensure that his consort would have nothing to divert his attention during the night.  
  
“Never have I seen a dwarf shake with so much fear. Lòni told me to retire early today. And to take a few days reprieve from the planning.”  
  
“Lòni seems exceptionally smart-“  
  
“Confound it, Thorin!  
  
“I share you with the entire mountain during the day. Am I not to have you at night either?”  
  
At this, Bilbo grasped the front of Thorin’s shirt and pulled him in for a rough, passionate kiss.  
  
“I am yours, always,” Bilbo said once they separated. He kept his forehead touching Thorin’s. “Yours alone. I do these things for Erebor so that you may see it as it once was. I would give you the world if I could, but I thought you might settle for your home returned to its glory. And if I could help be a part of that… I would give you anything, Thorin.”  
  
Thorin kissed Bilbo, unable to stop smiling as he did so. He could feel himself practically beaming at Bilbo when he finally released him to say, “I would have you.”  
  
He then grabbed Bilbo firmly on the buttocks, chuckling at the small yelp he made, and lifted him until his legs circled Thorin’s waist. He closed his eyes when Bilbo kissed him, but it didn’t matter. He could carry Bilbo to the bed blindfolded.  
  
After, on the brink of the most blissful of slumbers, Thorin swore he heard Bilbo whisper, “and you are mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! Fast forgiveness and lots of kissing in the land of fluff. Please comment! It takes two seconds, and it keeps me happy for so much longer. It also helps me know what you like/don't like so that I might write better in the future!


End file.
